


Meet Me At The River

by xLostDreamsx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pining of the worst kind, Prejudice, Sad, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Tragic Romance, Violence, Werewolf/ human divide, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 18:55:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLostDreamsx/pseuds/xLostDreamsx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles love in the most uncomplicated way possible but living in a world where it is against the law for werewolves and humans to be in relationships, they live a dangerous secret. </p><p>The pain of being pulled apart consumes Derek as he relentlessly swears to find Stiles once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet Me At The River

**Author's Note:**

> This is a combination of a Romeo & Juliet type story crossed with Bruce Springsteen's 'The River', who knew they could fit to one story?! This is about love but not the healthiest version if it. 
> 
> As a warning it's sad, I feel kinda bummed out having just written it. Love is a hard game.

We met when we were 14 and the idea of love was some uninteresting, impossible concept that had never crossed our minds. Life was simple and uncomplicated, our routines dictated by those in authority around us and that was fine. We went to school, played sports, hung out eating fries in the parks with our buddies. There were ups and downs, fights and detentions, being forced to eat broccoli, the usual. 

The idea of falling into someone so absolutely that the world I had once known would cease to exist was so far out of scope I would’ve laughed at anyone who said that could even be a possibility. The knowledge that you would die to be by that persons side, would take a last breath just to know they could carry on existing, would destroy your whole life just to touch their skin once more... that sounds absurd until it happens to you and it’s almost more than you know how to comprehend.

He had these eyes you know, these incredible warm amber eyes that shone with flecks of gold like the sun itself had sprinkled shards of light in there, and they were ringed with such a rich darkness it could be called ebony. We sat together to study, we shared a joke and he looked at me with his complete focus for the first time and it was like time stopped. Those eyes turned to me with full force and it was like they contained some kind of magical ability to steal my soul for him to claim as his own. I couldn’t breathe, just look, look as deep as I could at the beauty of this person sat next to me. He had set a spell on me and all I wanted to do was watch him and feel the warmth from those shards of sunlight that he had stolen for his own.

Then he would smile at me in this way, this slow sleepy soft way that made me want to comfort him, protect him and keep him. It was a private look that made me feel like we were the only ones who existed in the room, it was a smile just for me and made me feel like I could burst with joy when he shared that with me. I could watch him talk all day, just the way he moved his lips, twisted them to fit the words that would pour out, charming me, bewitching me, working in all the ways it is possible to seduce a person. 

His eyes and his mouth, they caught me first. We started studying together when we could, which then grew into playing sports, he reckoned he was never going to make a lacrosse player and I was determined to show him otherwise. He was skinny, starting to grow fast but he had speed and agility when he put his focus to it. We trained for long afternoons, just pitching the ball back and forth and it was the most perfect of times. Just the two of us, the noise of the school around us fading into nothing as we danced around each other, getting to know the push and pull of who we were and what this was.

It was like some force had awakened in us, some pull at our very cores that made us gravitate to each other’s space unavoidably. There was no sense to it, no logic but neither of us could deny or resist it. I knew when he arrived each morning without conscious knowledge, would turn my head and there he would be, our eyes locking, breath quickening as we moved towards each other without thought. 

But we had to be careful. Stiles was human and I was werewolf. 

We could be friends but the boundaries were so tightly drawn that we were risking everything by being seen together more than was necessary. So I invited him to the river.

The river at the back of my family’s property stretches on through the town and out into the wilds of the forest. There’s this little area hidden away that I found when I was young and liked exploring out on my own, breathing in the scents of pine and rich damp earth to find parts as yet seemingly untouched. 

We met one hot summer afternoon after school had finished and I took his hand to lead him down the faint trail marked out by forest animals to reach the water. We smiled, nerves alight as we turned to look at each other. It was the first time we had been alone together and I felt like I was about to explode at being able to stand close to him, to no longer have to hide how much I wanted him. 

I was scared, so scared that it might be too much, that he might just turn and run. I knew he felt what I did, our hearts thudded together in time and his thumb had stoked against my wrist as we’d walked, but what if he decided this was too much? This kind of thing could destroy our families, could end any hope of a normal, happy life in the future. The penalties could be huge and for what? What could this really be?

Staring into those gorgeous eyes that peered widely at me, his breath warm on my skin, I knew that whatever this could be or was never going to be, I needed him. Needed him more than air and no fear for the future could change that. 

He touched me like I was made of glass, his hand damp and trembling as he cupped my jaw and I felt like I couldn’t even draw air, the world stopped for just the two of us. The first time I reached out to stroke the soft skin at the back of his neck, I had to close my eyes. 

Our foreheads knocked together and he spoke gently against my lips, urging me to open my eyes again. I took courage in his quiet strength and looked again, looked at the lines of his face, at the shapes of his lips, his nose, his jaw. I looked and I looked, taking the chance to see him as much as I wanted, to learn the contours of the face I had grown to need so deeply. He looked back at me, gaze glittering under his heavy dark eyelashes and without any knowledge of who moved first, we swayed together to meet in a kiss that changed the path of our lives forever.

He was so gentle and soft at first, we were both so tentative at whatever fragile thing this was and we really had no idea how to even do this, it was like we had just been pulled together and were somehow figuring out what that meant. We touched slowly, exploring skin that glowed golden in the afternoon sun, the shadows of the tress above casting flickering shadows over us. 

We kissed with the wonderful innocence and naiveté of two boys secluded from the outside world who just knew they were good for each other. It felt like warmth, goodness and light and how could that be wrong? 

That first meeting by the lake will stay in my memory for always as the happiest of my life. He was mine and I was his and we kissed to promise that to each other. We held each other like we had found all we ever needed and were ever going to let go.

We swam after a while, our youthful exuberance from our physical contact filling us with joy and life, we splashed and hollered out as we cut through the fresh cool water, so perfect on that balmy afternoon. Stiles looked like perfection as he glimmered and glittered like a faultless apparition. I almost didn’t dare to believe that it was real, that he was real. It all seemed too good to be true that we had found each other and that he wanted me too.

We held wet hands as we stood in the water, droplets ran down our hair dripping onto my face, onto his face. We smiled and pressed wet noses to each other’s cheeks, laughing at the coolness that made us jump when it touched hot skin. I reached forward to kiss at his wet neck and left a mark there that made him mine. I didn’t let that mark fade for a long time afterwards. 

It was our place at the river. No one knew it was there and it was safe from ears and eyes that would call us out and end the whole thing. Through all that summer, we would meet when we could, stripping our clothes and charging into the water. Our bodies were slick and tanned as we chased each other, diving deep before racing for the surface. Sometimes we would get cold and would stand shivering with purple lips, rubbing our hands together as we giggled and found ways to warm each other’s skin again.

It was like our private world, our secret and it was perfect. 

We made love for the first time out there, under a tree as the setting sun cast amber and crimson light over us. I knew how Stiles’ body felt, had touched every inch I could, and he with mine, but the first time I felt him so deeply as I rocked into his heat, I thought I had finally lost all sense. We kissed frantically as we pushed and pulled together, the movement sending shockwaves of sparkling energy and current through my veins. I held him tight, too tight if the blue bruises my fingers left behind indicated, but I needed him so much, wanted all of him as much as another person can have the other. 

And he gave it to me. 

He looked into my eyes and he promised me his soul and his being, whispered words of a love that was forever and I held his perfect face and kissed and kissed at those sweet lips as we locked our fates together. 

I held him for a long time afterwards, wrapped up so tightly we didn’t even know how to begin to separate ourselves. I mapped out the lines of his face with my fingers and watched his eyes flicker as he slept in my arms. He awoke as I was mapping out his eyelashes and I pressed kisses to as many as I could before he stopped me by capturing my lips with his own.

We already knew we destined to be forever, that summer taught me about how precious another can become, at how your entire life can be held by a single person. It was wonderful and terrifying and the quiet looks of pale realisation that would sometimes flicker over Stiles’ face told me he mirrored my feelings.

Over the winter we had to find other places to meet secretly and it became hard. We didn’t see each other as much as we wanted although telling the truth, we wanted to be around each other all the time and so any snatched meeting wasn’t enough. 

We tried so hard to keep things hidden but suspicious looks started when we would leave school together. Sometimes one of us would forget ourselves and would move to stroke a hand against the other’s and a flare of panic would course through us in fear someone had seen. 

The next summer we started meeting at the river again and it felt like the magic was wrapping us up and keeping us safe again. We had both grown over the year and Stiles had strength in his body that was incredible, I had never touched a human before and I never got over the thrill of knowing how delicate his smooth skin and bones were and yet he could run so fast, could push over and hold me down with a surprising confidence. I loved each and every inch of him, his long legs would stretch over me and I would run fingers over all I could reach, teasing at the hairs and following the freckles that marked him.

I loved the taste of his lips wet with river water, the feel of his slick hair as he flicked it back as he winked at me, teasing me so joyfully. I loved running after him and tackling him down to the ground, twisting us so I would take the weight as we fell. I loved how he could hook his ankles around me as I entered him, we would gasp against each other’s mouths, eyes meeting as we rocked together sharing all we could in that union. 

It was dangerous. Stupidly so. 

We loved each other so much it blinded us to reality. The river became a dream world and we thought it could last forever. Young and hopeful, we thought we had created a place that was indestructible. At least the young try though. No matter what came after, we could’ve made it.

My uncle found us. We had gotten lost in each other’s bodies and had stayed out long past the stars appearing twinkling high above us, the moon making its steady climb into the dark night sky. We’d huddled in blankets as the chill cut through the air and I warmed Stiles’ cooler body with my own as I held him tight under me, kissing slowly and murmuring quietly to each other when we had the energy to form a thought.

Peter took us by surprise, purposefully so. He had been stalking us for weeks and I curse myself now for not noticing, for not scenting foreign footsteps, for not seeing how his behaviour towards me had changed. I was under his sole care since my family perished when I was very young and he had never been easy to live with. He was tormented by the death of my mother, his sister and I knew how carefully I had to tread around him, especially on full moons when dark moods would take him. He would charge out into the woods on those nights, teeth gnashing, claws pinning the dark earth as he tried to expel some of the dangerous vengeful energy he stored deep inside of him.

That night, he roared into the clearing and leapt at my back tearing deep into my flesh. I barely beat him off before he turned to Stiles who looked more terrified than any other creature I have seen, his face white, eyes all pupil. Peter cocked his head and slowly opened his jaw to roar in warning, fangs jutting long and deadly in the moonlight. I was taken by instinct, Peter dared to threaten Stiles, the only person I would shift the moon and stars for, I didn’t even pause to consider, just leapt with full force, driven by the anger that he would dare to do that.

There are laws, humans and werewolves co-exist in relative peace but they don’t mix at home. We may all work and study together, play sports and eat lunch together but we don’t go home together. The laws are so old, so ancient and of course they get broken. Wolves and humans alike are separated needlessly causing pain and destruction to families but it is the way it has always been. Continues to be.

But I had to fight for it that night. I poured all my fears and frustrations into tearing into my Uncle. He represented the old world, the ways that I hated. Stiles and I had stroked at each other’s faces, whispering into the night of how we would break free of it all, get away and be together forever and change how things were. We tried to believe it, tried hard to hold onto that dream but when we looked into each other’s eyes, the fear sat larger than the hope we tried to maintain.

I bit and scratched at Peter, knowing I had no chance of winning but had to do this, had to go down fighting. I yelled at Stiles to run away and he scrabbled back on the damp earth, grabbing his clothes and running with a scared look. 

I met Peter mid-flight as he turned to attack me again and we fell to the ground in a fury of snarls, blood starting to soak the ground as I shifted into my Beta form. I was driven by the love I felt for Stiles and would not give up. Peter was an Alpha and was far stronger than me but he had to wound me to unconsciousness for the fight to end as I refused to submit. 

I loved Stiles and he loved me and that was not wrong. I could not submit to Peter’s demand that I admit the opposite.

All hell broke loose after that. I ended up in hospital as my wounds healed so slowly. Partly because they were inflicted by an Alpha but also because I entered a kind of catatonic state as a deep depression took me. I had the solid knowledge now that I would have no backing from the only member of my family to try and make what I had with Stiles real. Although I had a difficult and strained relationship with my Uncle, it hurt deeply to know how strongly he felt about what I had done. I also knew I would have no chance of doing this without help. I laid for several weeks in that hospital bed, rejecting painkillers and watching my wounds seep dark through the bandages that wrapped around me.

At night I would turn my head to the pillow below, soaking it deeply with tears as I gazed out into the night sky, wondering where he was. Wishing so deeply that I could have him there with me, there to hold so warm and secure, to be able to smell the scent of him and know he was safe. No one would give me news, Peter would stand and look at me but would not talk, he was so ashamed of me. The doctors knew nothing and were in no place to offer comfort. I have never felt so alone in all my life as those nights. 

As the shock and mourning worked through my system I realised that lying in a hospital bed was rendering me useless and so I slowly allowed the healing to start. My skin itched and bones ground as they knitted together through the night and I wept at the pain that wracked my whole body. By morning, Peter came to collect me and the strict rules for my continued care under his authority were laid out plainly to me. I listened with a certain removed disinterest as he stated that schooling would now be conducted under his tutorage and that human contact would now be on a strictly chaperoned basis. I was informed I would never see Stiles again and that I should forget about him.

Forgetting about Stiles is like being told that I should stop breathing and to get used to not needing oxygen. He filled my every thought and I felt like I was bursting out my skin to have no news of where he was, to not be able to see him and know he was ok. The image I held in my mind when I screamed at him to run, the fear and horror in those eyes haunted my dreams at night and I drove myself close to insanity by wondering if he would never want to see me again even if he could. What if the experience of seeing werewolves up close had been too much for him and he would never want me no matter what.

I had to wait several weeks before I managed to escape the house away from watching eyes. I ran with desperation into the town, trying to stay hidden, unknowing of who had knowledge of what had happened and the kind of prejudice I might face if I was recognised. Human and werewolf relationships caused such a range of reactions, some staging violent protests outside houses when unions were discovered. I knew I could be killed if the wrong pair of eyes saw me.

Reaching Stiles’ house I knew as I approached the outskirts of the perimeter fence that he was gone. The house was empty and Stiles’ scent was already faint.

With an empty heart I worked open a side door and wondered the empty rooms, fingertips skating over sideboards and tables, searching in hope that there may be some clue as to where the inhabitants had gone. I ascended the stairs and although I had never been in Stiles’ house, found his room with ease as the strengthening scent of him filled my senses and I had to stop myself from crying out with how much I wished he could be there, wished he would run through the door so I could hold him and never let him go. 

I sat on his bed for some time, just looking over the now empty space and breathing in as deeply as I could. As the sun started to lower I knew I had to go but as I stood, my sorrow over-whelmed me and I crumpled to the bare floorboards, tears flowing as I gasped to breathe. How could it be this way? How could I live without him when he was all I wanted, all I needed? There was no kindness around me, no eyes looked to me with sympathy, there were just looks of disgust and disapproval. I had been told it was a phase, something I would grow out of. It was as if those people had never felt love and if that was the case, I felt sorry that they lived such an empty life without it.

Upon rising from the floor, I saw a shirt sleeve that had been caught down the side of the bed and I dashed to pull it free. It was Stiles’ red shirt, faded and soft and I knew it so well. I clutched the fabric close to my face and moaned at the intensity of his scent held so perfectly in the fabric still, my heart thudding as if reaction to his presence. Had he left it on purpose? I don’t know, but I held it close and it had not left my being since that day. The scent has long faded but it represents all I still cling to.

I was 16 and had no power. No one would talk to me, the subject was taboo and Peter had restricted my contact to those who shared his extreme views. I was miserable and lonely and survived only by subduing my thoughts and closing myself off from the world. My world became small and dark, sunlight flickering through on occasion would dazzle and blind me and I would have to turn away. I was difficult to deal with and lost the few friends I was still allowed to see as I turned each one away again and again. My sole thought was to make it to 18 when I would be free, Peter would hold no authority over me anymore and I could finally go and find the one person I needed to feel alive. 

Peter died before I reached 18. He was as dark and twisted as a being could be and one night he left and didn’t return. The cops came to inform me and a small funeral was held. Only five people came, I wore a black suit I found in his wardrobe with a long stem of wolfsbane pinned to the pocket. I took the condolences and looked to the ground, my stony demeanour fitting for the apparent sad occasion. I felt regret. Sorrow that my uncle had transformed into something unrecognisable from the young wolf he used to be but I couldn’t shed tears for him. He took my world from me and I would never forgive him.

I immediately started searching for Stiles, I abandoned my studies and started travelling. 

As I could get no help in finding where he may have one, I decided it best to start combing out in all directions from town, just to try and find a scent, a clue as to where he may have gone. The focus helped, I was able to sleep a little sounder at night knowing I was working on something productive. Some days I would run to conduct the search instead of driving and the stretch of exercise helped wear me out so my thoughts would calm to something more manageable.

I started out with such hope and positivity that I would find him, it never occurred to me that it wouldn’t be easy. That it might now be possible.

After the first month, I took some time to plan more precise searching’s, spreading the map out and pinning places I knew Stiles had family or that had good universities as I knew he would be keen to continue studying and his dad wanted him to go into the police force. I spent longer away, my Uncle’s inheritance being used so I could rent out hotel rooms as I roamed towns and cities, waiting for any slight glimpse or scent that might help me in some way.

It’s like he has been abducted to the face of the moon. In fact I wish he had been taken to the moon in some ways, at least when I howl to it at night, I would be able to see his face looking down on me.

It’s been two years now that I’ve been searching and I have travelled more miles that I can count. I’ve stayed in so many hotel rooms and rented so many cars it’s all become a blur. I forget which towns I’ve covered sometimes and don’t realise until I’m back there that I’m covering the same ground. I despair at where he has gone and wonder if he is over-seas somewhere, if I will end up searching the entire world to find the one that my world revolves around. 

I thought the pain and emptiness would subside over time but in truth I’ve just learnt to live with it. The gaping hole that sits in my heart is still as deep and raw as the night Stiles was taken from me and some days it’s so hard to breathe I think I will die from it. Whoever said that it’s better to have loved and lost was clearly out of their mind. 

So I go down to the river now and I sit in the golden light letting the warmth bathe my face. I close my eyes and I see him, see those beautiful sparkling eyes, watch his dazzling smile and catch glimpses of his voice on the breeze. I see him in the water, diving before pulling up to break the surface, water droplets running down his smooth skin. I know he won’t look like that now, time has passed and I know I do not look the same and have not come away unscarred from all that has happened. I worry that even if I do find him, we may be too wounded, too beaten for it to ever be something that could work.

He has never come back to me. He could be dead or maybe he’s free but doesn’t want me. I hoped when he turned 18, he may come and find me but that date has come and gone and still nothing.

I search and will keep on searching. The love I hold travels so deep it has become a part of me and whatever life holds in the future, I will never be without him.

And so on days I'm too tired to run, I sit. I sit on the river bank and I close my eyes and live my memories. I send out thoughts to the universe that if he is out there, if he is alive, please bring him to me. Let him come down to the river again and I’ll be there waiting to take his hand again as I do each night in my dreams.


End file.
